For Her
by SheWhomLaughsLast
Summary: Rated M for graphic and possibly disturbing content. When the person you love is in danger, you find out how far you'll go to protect them. You find that, for her, you can and will do anything.


She let him fall as the clock hit midnight. The blonde released the piano wire and let his body hit the floor with a disgusting splash of blood. The crimson goo had already begun to pool on the floor as his sightless eyes glitter in the moonlight. She swallowed as she looked down his body, at his bare back and pants that were halfway down his legs. Her chest rose and fell from the fight like the girl's on the bed.

It was as if the world slowed down. The only sound to reach her ears was the sound of their breaths, the sound of her heart hammering in her head. The wire slowly slipped out from her bloodied hand and rattled on the floor. She could just faintly feel the burning sting of the cuts from the wire on her palms and the back of her hand. Her fingers were cramped, joints screaming from the force exerted, from the intense moment that had happened just seconds prior, but already felt a lifetime away.

The blonde raised her eyes from the dead body on the ground to the girl on the bed, barely taking in the mint walls of the room or the black and white bedspread; the once wholesome colours were now tainted by evil intentions and the shadows of the night. Midnight hair was splayed around her head and small droplets of blood speckled the smooth caramel skin between her breasts and her collar bone. Her knees rested on the edge of the bed, feet just barely touching the hard wood flooring. Her skirt was pushed up around her waist and torn on the side, her blazer and blouse roughly yanked open to expose her lacy bra clad chest.

The blonde could hear the fabric ripping in the back of her mind, could see the buttons flying as the man tore the other girl's shirt open. She could hear the girl crying and begging for him to stop. A memory that sent dark chills up her spine.

The dark haired girl wasn't the vulnerable kind. She was the kind of woman who could kick anyone's ass. The kind of woman whom was fully capable of taking care of herself. For the blonde, hearing the girl scream and cry was the scariest sound in the world.

She remembered the long run up the stairs from the piano with the wire in hand. She remembered wrapping the long strand of metal around her hands in preparation for what was to come. She remembered the swell of undeniable horror as she took the steps two at a time. The images that ran through her mind were too mortifying to describe. She entered the room just as the back of his hand contacted the other girls cheek with a violent slap. She heard the sound of the girl's desperate wails, of her hands beating against his chest as he struggled to undo his fly and pin her at the same time.

Next thing she knew, he fell from her weapon to the floor, leaving in his wake a deafening silence.

She held her breath suddenly, not sure of what was to come next. The shock of taking a life was still lingering, infecting her heart with a kind of numbness she'd never felt before. Like this was all a horrible dream and she'd wake up in the sunlight, the brunette in her arms. That the darkness wouldn't exist.

The Latina on the bed raised her head and looked at the blonde, her eyes wet with unshed tears. When blue eyes met brown, reality hit the standing girl like a sucker punch. She stumbled backwards as the world began to spin. The black haired girl lurched forwards and grabbed her before she hit the ground.

"Brittany…" she breathed, lowering the taller girl to the ground carefully. Her hands shook violently as she pulled the remains of her skirt back in place. Brittany moved her hands to hide her face and the brunette caught her wrists. "Brittany, don't touch your face, baby, okay? Don't touch your face." The whispery voice trembled as she struggled to keep her fear at bay.

"Oh my god," Brittany sobbed brokenly "I killed him, Santana…I killed him." She shook her head, the tears rolling freely down her face now. Her head fell forward, her shoulders shaking as Santana looked at her palms. "I didn't want to…I didn't…he was going to hurt you…I couldn't let him—"

"I know, Brittany." Santana cut her off. "I know. It's okay, it's okay." The Latina pulled her lover to her for a painfully brief moment in the light of the full moon. She pulled away and glanced at the dead body on the ground just half a metre from them and looked back at the blonde. "Brittany, I need you to listen to me okay?" she used her fingers to wipe away the tears from under Brittany's eyes. There was a moment's hesitation before Brittany looked up. "I want you to go into the kitchen and take a tea towel for your hands. _Don't _wash them in the sink. Just go down to the garage, take the keys for one of the cars and drive until you find a river of some kind. I want you then to rinse your hands in the river, burn the cloth, and then go home and go to bed."

"I don't wanna leave you." The blonde whimpered and Santana nodded, her entire frame shaking violently. She swallowed hard, trying not to choke on her heart as it continued to leap into her throat.

"I know, I know. But I need to take care of this, okay? I need to make this all go away so you don't get in trouble."

"But he tried to hurt you! Who would I get in trouble with for stopping that?"

"Baby," Santana said, trying to break through to the girl in front of her. She tried to give herself the confident edge to her voice she usually had, but had trouble putting it together. "baby, please just do what I say. People will come looking for you if they know what you did here. I need to protect you. So please, just listen to me. I'll call you when it's safe, okay?" The blonde nodded vigorously, looking at her bloodied hands, almost fascinated by the way the crimson glistened in the moonlight.

"Santana?" she breathed after a long pause, eyes still fixated on her hands, on the long cuts on her palms.

"Britt?" she lifted her blue eyes to the Latina's.

"Please don't leave me." Santana stared at her for a moment before pulling her in for a brief, but desperate kiss. She leaned their foreheads together, squeezing her eyes shut as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"I'll never leave you, Brittany. Never." She pulled away. "Go, you gotta get going." The blonde hesitated, eyes locked on the growing bruise around Santana's eye, the way the eye seemed to be swelling. "Now, Britt." She snapped, almost in anger.

"Your eye—"

"GO! BRITTANY!" Santana snarled, smacking her hand on the ground, making Brittany jump and run out the door.

Santana waited there, crouched by the body, listening to the dancer's frantic footsteps and the jingle of keys. It was only when she heard the front door slam that she fell apart. She fell to her side, her body curling in around itself. She'd never been so scared in her entire life. And, the second she felt that fear, she knew she didn't have time to cry. She had to protect her girlfriend. She pushed herself up, the tears trickling down her cheeks as she stared at the body next to her. Her eyes flickered to the clock; ten past midnight.

_Sun rise is at six o'clock. _She thought methodically, pushing away her emotions the best she could. _That leaves me five hours and fifty minutes. _Her eyes flickered to the wire on the floor, in the pool of blood. _I'll need all the time I can get. _She reached into the pocket of her blazer, pulling out her cell phone in shaky hands. She hit the number she never wanted to dial. It rang four times before someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"It's me." Her voice was cool, collected, but her fingers still trembled as she held it to her ear.

"It's kind of late."

"I know. I need a favour."

**Sigh, This was more something I wrote when an idea struck me than an actual story. I've too many stories unfinished right now to be worrying about another one. Maybe once I get caught up with the rest of my life. No promises though.**


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